Lord of the Mass Rings
by TenyumeKasumi
Summary: I have no idea what I'm doing.


The land was barren, empty. Slates of rock and broken bits from pebbles littered the flat, dark shale ground which stretched far and wide. The horizon was hidden, obscured as it was by thick, acrid smoke filling the air, choking it, squeezing the life from it, enshrouding all in its path and creating vague silhouettes of colossal structures to be barely discernible. More of it belched forth from the mouth of the towering volcano, its peak seemingly piercing the storm clouds forever blocking the sky. Lava, bright orangey-red, trickled out and streamed down the slopes of the mountain, the only bit of colour to be had in dark lands such as these. Besides the steadily flowing molten rock, everything was still. Nothing moved, nothing stirred. All was silent.

Without warning, an ominous circle of red flared into existence as one of the giant shadows in the black mist shifted, casting an ill, red light into the miasma. -Mechanical whirring sounded and the earth shook as the being rose with a thunderous step, standing several hundred metres tall, then let out an unworldly bellow that rent the air and dragged on endlessly through the land like the call of a hunting horn.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Elsewhere, a pair of completely white, iris-less eyes flew open.

_It is time._

"Blasted, no-good, ungrateful girl… Should have tossed her out on her ass to work in the Verners' fields years ago… That would teach her some darned manners… Why in heaven's name did I even bother taking in the runt in the first place, I don't know…"

Zaeed Massani grumbled to himself as he fussed over a brand new leather-bound tome, open to the first page with its leaves an off-white blank, just waiting to be filled with lines of script from the ink of his quill. The grizzled old man glared at it with his good eye.

Fine, he thought vehemently as he repeatedly dipped his owl-feather quill into the inkpot with unnecessary force until the nib scraped the glass bottom. Fine, if it bleeding makes her happy. Hmph. Besides, if I don't write it myself, some fool a century from now is going to tell it to a dozen strangers and get the facts all wrong.

Tapping away the excess ink back into the pot, while minding that none of it got onto the fine linen sleeve of his tunic, Zaeed had just raised the quill and was about to put the nib to the parchment when his hand was stilled. Something had occurred to him that had not occurred to him before.

"… What will the bloody title be?"

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

"G- Bloody heavens above and below… JANE! GET THE DAMN DOOR!"

His shouts rang throughout the whole of Bag End and even leaked outside through the opened, round windows and frightened away a pair of sparrows. Arguably the most charming smial in all of the Shire, Bag End had been passed to Zaeed by its builder; his late father. With its rounded, wooden hallways, dozens upon dozens of rooms, varnished wood flooring and circular windows and door with green lacquer finish, it was the most beautiful smial one could hope to live in. If there was one thing that old sod knew, it was how to build proper smials.

"Bah!" spat Zaeed under his breath as he returned to the blank leaf. "'You have a patience as short as my pinky finger, there's no way you could write a complete book,' she says. Hah! I'll show that impudent, wretched little-"

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!_

"JANE! Bah, blasted girl's not around when I need her and always dancing on my toes when I don't. _JANE!_"

Where was that confounded girl?!

Fiery-red hair streamed out behind her as tore through the woods at a breath-taking. Jane swiped a low-hanging branch out of her way before leaping across a little brook and dashing off again as fast as her legs could carry her. Up ahead, she could hear the sound of hooves clopping along the road leading to the Shire and the creaking of a horse cart.

Bursting out of the thicket of trees and heaving for breath, Jane skidded to a stop right before the grassy earth gave way to the dirt road two feet below. A weathered wooden cart pulled by a carthorse was just passing by. Its driver was a mysterious figure cloaked all in grey despite the sunny weather with a matching pointed hat.

Managing to catch her breath, Jane straightened up with a smug smile on her face and her arms across her chest.

"You're late," she announced pompously.

The cart grinded to a halt right before her as the driver turned his head ever so slightly.

"A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives _precisely_ when he means to."

Dark eyes peered at her from beneath the wide brim of his frayed hat and she stared right back at them with her own green. Neither moved.

Then a smile broke over the cloaked man's face and a giggle escaped Jane. The next thing she knew, she was leaping into the rickety cart to throw her arms around the elderly, potbellied man.

"It's so good to see you, Anderson!"

"It's good to see you too, child," laughed Anderson as he brought her into a bear-hug. He ruffled her long crimson hair good-naturedly, which had been made windswept from her run with twigs and leaves stuck in it. His ruffling was only making it even messier.

"Goodness, Jane! Look at what a sight you've made of yourself! Zaeed will not be pleased now, will he?"

"Oh, he can say what he likes," huffed Jane impatiently, setting herself down beside him as the cart started moving again with a slight twitch of the reigns from Anderson's hand. All the same, she began to rake her fingers through her waist-length hair to remove the bits of tree and try to tame it somewhat. Just because she didn't bother to listen to his tirades didn't mean that he couldn't make a grand scene about her appearance. Anderson seemed to think the same thing.

"You may be death to his lectures, child. But your neighbours definitely aren't."

"Woe unto them, then." Jane turned to grin cheekily at Anderson who only laughed, the skin at the corners of his crinkling as he did so.

The cart wound its way through the rich lands of the Shire, the grass a vivid, lush green and the waters in rivers and streams sparkling blue and tinkling merrily. High was the mid-day sun in the soft blue sky as she cast her warming rays throughout the land. Small animals like the squirrels frolicked freely among the trees while the birds exchanged songs and weaved an enchanting melody into the fresh, woodland air. It was a beautiful day in the Shire, yet another of the many before that the land had always seen and a promise of yet countless more to be had in the future.

They talked for a little more, with Anderson regaling Jane with a few of his more interesting adventures since his last visit to the Shire and she to him the going-ons of their humble land. The harvest had been exceptionally good this year and they could expect a horde of turnips and carrots to be ready for eating in future festival feasts. Taylor's son, Jacob, had six months ago managed to fall down the family well and just barely saved himself when the rope was stuck in the pulley.

Anderson himself had somehow gotten involved with a stray chicken from a farm in the Eastern lands that had acquired the rather curious ability to rapidly change in size and colour after consuming some strange herbs from his sack. Another time, when a the mayor of a small town had pleaded with him to help free some of the townsfolk miners who had been trapped in a cave-in, Anderson had fashioned a golem from the stone and brought it to life to perform the task. Though he was later forced to deactivate it when it tried to squash its enchanter by sitting atop him.

All of these amazing things, Anderson was fully capable of. This was because Anderson was a wizard – Anderson the Grey, he called himself, as Jane remembered when Zaeed first introduced him to her so many years ago. He was not as scary as the tales would have children believe of wizards, she thought. In fact, he was almost as much her father as Zaeed had been to her though definitely with a much more relaxed manner.

"Ah, enough about this old man's folly!" cried Anderson. "Tell me, how is Zaeed nowadays? I do look forward to seeing the old chap again after so long a time."

Jane rolled her eyes to accompany her reply, "Oh, he's been the same as ever. Holing up in Bag End and complaining about everything under the sun, moon and sea; making the Verners' lives as miserable as he possibly can; shouting to send me out on errands; shouting to send Garrus out on errands; spending his time in the evening sitting outside smoking pipe-weed…"

She trailed off as a thought occurred to her and her brow furrowed. "Though… he's been acting odd lately." Jane glanced sideways at Anderson when the wizard gave her a sceptical look. "More so than usual, I mean."

The expression on Anderson's face changed from scepticism to something Jane could not understand. "Oh? How so?"

"Well," the furrow between her eyes deepened as she cast her gaze out toward a patch of berry shrubs from which a pair of young children was busy eating off the plump, ripe fruits from the branches and laughing merrily. "He's taken to locking himself up in his study for very long hours. Doesn't let anybody in – not even me! And he doesn't know that I know, but he spend his time in there looking over maps of Middle-Earth and strange diagrams of Eastern lands I know naught of- "

"Are you telling me, Jane," Anderson interrupted with an amused twinkle in his eye, "that you've been meddling around your uncle's personal belongings without his permission?"

Jane had the decency to blush. "No- I- Oh, what does it matter? I was justified! He was being all secretive and- "

Her hastened explanation was cut short when Anderson let out a hearty laugh and patted her on the shoulder. "Now now, Jane. It's nothing 'to lose your cabbages over' as you Shire people call it. I was only teasing you."

Before she could respond with an indignant retort, her eyes met with the man's kind smile. "I'm sure you have nothing to worry about concerning Zaeed. It's probably just a phase, a late-life crisis if you will. He and I are both old, Jane. So I'm afraid you must have to forgive us a few eccentricities."

"Well, if you say so…" Jane relented, though Anderson observed from the corner of his eye the doubt on her face.

"Here we are then!" exclaimed Anderson as the cart rolled to a stop before the quaint, picketed garden fence of Bag End. "I shall go in to bother your uncle for a cup of tea. Would you be joining us, Jane?"

"Me? Join you?" came Jane's incredulous reply as she leapt down from the cart and turned back to him. "I think I'd very much rather go and visit Tali than have Zaeed yell in my ear about my 'less than impeccable table manners'."

Anderson's lips twitched upward. "Ah, you must understand that Zaeed is also not the best practitioner of what he preaches."

"You understand it too, then," she stuck out her tongue. "But I'll see you at the birthday party tonight. And I'll bring Tali with me!"

And with that, Jane turned tail and fled from the path and the sound of Anderson's chuckles to a shortcut through Goldstein's farmland before Zaeed could emerge and comment about the state of her muddied, grass-stained dress.

* * *

**A/N**: Hail there, stranger (or friend)! This be my submission for Afterlife Forum's June contest.

This was meant to be a one-shot of a crossover between Lord of the Rings and Mass Effect, but quickly ballooned into something out of control. xD As a result, I request that only this chapter be judged for the contest as it is the only portion I managed to complete before the deadline. After which, however, I plan to yet continue this tale and with a bit of luck, see it through to it's conclusion. Perhaps even all the way up to The Return of the King, if I am able.

Forgive me this archaic tongue, but it appears I am unable to 'unlock' myself out of this for the time being.

Farewell and good tidings be upon you!

- Kasumi


End file.
